


Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around

by taubir



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anxiety, At least I tried to make it TPO, Church and Tucker Bickering, Interview, Lots of Confusion for Caboose, M/M, Medicine, Modern AU, Sarcasm, Swearing, Tex is Church's Made-Up Coping Mechanism, Trauma, family road trip, therapist!Dr. Grey, third person omniscient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taubir/pseuds/taubir
Summary: Wash needs a ride to his important job interview, and Church offered to drive him there. Unfortunately, he also forgot he'd promised to carpool Tucker and Caboose as well that day.Shenanigans ensue.





	Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around

_Okay_ , thought Church. _Remember what Dr. Grey told you. Deep breaths. Deeeeep...breaths._

Church forced himself to count to five in his head, matching his breaths in time to the numbers. Today was _not_ a day he could allow himself to lose his cool. Wash needed him, and Tucker needed him, and Caboose—well, Church didn’t know if Caboose needed _him_ specifically, as any mental institution could probably do a way better job of managing him than he and his friends did—but for now, Church was responsible for him, too.

Anyways. Where were we? Oh, that’s right: right now would be a _very_ terrible time to blow his top, because if Church lost his cool in _here_ with _these_ people, then everything would simply go to shit.

“Chuuuuuuurch!”

Church glared into his rearview mirror at Tucker.

“What?” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m doing my deep-breathing exercises here?”

“Yeah, okay, Yoga Man. Whatever. Can you please just tell Caboose to behave? He’s flinging food everywhere!”

Caboose, indignant of this accusation, piped up, “Ah—That’s—is not true. UhhhTucker did it!” Next to him, Tucker mimed strangling him to death.

“Both of you, shut up!” That was Wash. He had turned around in the passenger seat so he could fix his stern, parental gaze on the both of the guys. “Caboose, stop trying to start a food fight. A car is not a cafeteria. And Tucker, don’t antagonize him.”

“But I wasn’t antagonizing him!” Tucker protested. Wash cut him off with a hand before he could finish.

“Just…! Please do as I say. Please.”

The earnesty in Wash’s voice and the pleading in his gray eyes to simply humor his words were enough to placate Tucker. He grumbled something unintelligible, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his seat to look out the window. To Wash’s relief, Caboose settled down as well, and looked back at Wash with big, vacant eyes.

“Hallo,” said Caboose brightly. There was no outward appearance that Caboose had registered anything that had just happened.

Wash grinned gingerly and responded, “Er—Hi, Caboose.”

Caboose beamed at him and waved erratically.

His neck starting to hurt, Wash turned back in his seat and faced the front, sighing. _They’re such a load to handle_ , he thought to himself. _I really wonder how Church does it_ . He glanced at his friend carefully. Was this type of situation something that Church had to deal with every day? The former blue team leader certainly _seemed_ to be the main caregiver when it came to matters with Caboose, but he knew Tucker helped out sometimes. Though, if the last five minutes were any example of this, Wash wasn’t sure Tucker’s “help” amounted to much.

Church caught him staring. “What?” he said, and Wash raised his eyebrows and shrugged, backing off.

“Sorry. It’s nothing.”

“Wash, you’re about to go up for the most important interview you’ve had since you moved—probably the most important one in all your life, actually. If there’s something you got on your mind, you’d better tell me now. Cause once we get to the office there’ll be no turning back.”

Wash sighed raggedly. “I know. I know. I’m just…” the former soldier rubbed his face tiredly. “Nervous.”

Church softened up a little at that. Boy, did he know what being nervous felt like. Nervous was not remembering half your life due to trauma. Nervous was making up an entire history with a nonexistent girlfriend in your head just to cope with said trauma. Nervous was living with Caboose on a daily fucking _basis_. He knew that feeling, and he knew it well.

“It sucks, I know,” said Church, changing lanes on the freeway. “But, like. Think about how good you’ll feel _after_ wards! I mean, one way or another, you’ll have an answer, right? You’re gonna walk out of that place with a clear idea for the future. Y’know, whichever way it turns out.”

Wash shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe,” he mumbled, looking out the window. Church spared a glance to look at his friend and worry.

Wash had been tense when they picked him up. His hair was all frazzled and his eyes had this wild look about them, like he’d just stumbled straight from a car crash. But now? God, now he just looked _tired_. His shoulders slumped, and his hands—previously jumping and twitching and twisting about each other with shaky energy—lay still on his lap, motionless. Church only got maybe a second or two, tops, to look at him, but that was all it took.

Wash looked defeated well before he even started.

“Church!”

Church snapped out of his pitying for a second to squint at Caboose in the mirror. “What?”

Caboose looked sheepish. “I, uh. I have to pee.”

“Wh— _Again_?! We just stopped five minutes ago!”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Caboose sighed dramatically, “but that was, like, a whole five minutes ago!” He whined and wiggled in his seat for emphasis. “You know I have a small bladder. Remember what Dr. Grey said about it being the smallest bladder she’d ever seen?”

“Okay, firstly, Dr. Grey never said that. Caboose, she’s _my_ therapist, not yours. Secondly, she’s not that kind of doctor! And it doesn’t matter how big or small your bladder is, if you’re having to pee every five minutes, you’ve probably got anxiety or something!”

“Or a problem with your prostate!” Tucker piped up helpfully from the back. Church gritted his teeth.

“Dude. Not. Helping.” _Deep breaths. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…_

“Yeah, ah, I don’t know what ang-society is,” drawled Caboose, “but I’ll just hold it until the next time you stop.”

“We are ever so grateful for your sacrifice,” Church hissed drily from the front. Caboose puffed out his chest from the praise, not catching the sarcasm.

“Oh, fuck. Wait,” said Church, remembering something. “Tucker, did he take his medicine today?”

“What, dude?”

“Caboose. Did he take his meds.”

“Oh. Ummm...I dunno.”

Church gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. The fact that he was driving and being legally responsible for three more lives besides his own in this car was the only reason keeping him from twisting around and punching Tucker square in the mouth.

“I—the fuck?! Man, that is literally the _one thing_ I ask you to keep track of. One thing! It’s not that hard to forget!”

“Hey, dude, lay off!” argued Tucker. “I’m sorry I forgot this _one_ , stupid thing. I’m always doing all your babysitter orders that I don’t have time to think of everything.” Tucker added a mocking nasally tone to his next set of words. “ _Tucker, do this! Tucker, do that! Caboose is too stupid to figure it out himself!_ Yeah, dipshit, I know. It’s not like I’ve got a million other chores to take care of when it comes to Caboose!”

“That’s right,” added Caboose loudly. “He’s only got one job! And that’s to be annoying!” Caboose looked him up and down in assessment. “And might I just add just how great a job you are doing today, sir.”

“Shut up, Caboose!”

Coming to a stop light, Church allowed himself to briefly close his eyes, breathing through his nose. “Tucker. I really don’t care _how_ many things you have to do. Just make him take his pills or I swear to god I will turn this car around. And that will make Wash miss his very important job interview. Y’know, the one we’re doing all this last-minute carpool shit for in the first place!”

Caboose watched with wide, curious eyes as Tucker half-rose from his seat, eyes alight with rage, absorbing every detail of the tense scene without even realizing it.

“No! You know what, dude? Fuck you. I do everything you ask of me. I pack Caboose’s lunch, I cart him around town, I set up his stupid little playdates. There is no way I am letting you chew me out over a couple of pills.”

Church didn’t have time to snap back a retort, because suddenly Wash’s arm slapped against his chest, and he screamed, “ _Look out!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing in third person omniscient so much, it's so much fun to interact with the characters in the story. Unfortunately, this fic is really not the best example of it because I've been in a bit of a writing funk lately, and this idea kept popping up in my head so much that I just had to write it, good or bad.
> 
> Sorry for the lame ending. I got bored. If y'all liked it and would like to maybe perhaps see a little more following the big, important interview, feel free to comment!
> 
> And thank you for reading! <3


End file.
